


As Time Moves Forward

by CaptainHadrian



Category: Danny Phantom, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Al gets to be a kid, Danny basically becomes The big brother, Danny doesn't age, Ed likes to science, have some headcanons, i hope you find it interesting, some sort of background plot, this thing kept me up an entire night and ended up 10k
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:53:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainHadrian/pseuds/CaptainHadrian
Summary: Danny hated being away from Amity Park.Another thing he hated, if a bit less viscerally, were portals.Especially ones that sucked you in, spat you out, and disappeared a moment later, leaving you stranded who-knew-where-ville during the time-is-irrelevant-to-portals century.(It didn't take long to realize just where exactly he'd ended up.)





	1. Chapter One: Tripped up by Reality

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down one afternoon. I opened a doc. I started writing. I didn't stop until the clock read 5AM and the doc was 22 pages long. I hope you enjoy yourselves.

Danny hated being away from Amity Park.

Scratch that, he absolutely _loathed_ it. It was the town he’d fought so hard, so desperately to protect for all those years. It was his home, his _haunt,_ the place he’d died without even knowing so, and the place he’d always come back to. His connection to the town was a piece of his obsession, under his protection, undoubtedly and indisputably _his_ after he’d beaten Pariah Dark for it. He could always feel that tether to Amity, aching when he was far away, pulling him back when his haunt was in danger, giving him an awareness over every portal that opened there.

Danny hated being away from Amity Park.

But he hadn’t been able to bear it.

He was nineteen. He was nineteen, and still looked like the same scrawny fourteen-year-old kid that came stumbling out of that portal all those years ago.

He was nineteen, but he wasn’t human.

The rest of his family _-those that belonged to him, his haunt, the ones his obsession made him watch the most_ -was and were moving on without him.

They would one day die. There was no guarantee any of them would become ghosts _-and they wouldn’t, not if he had anything to say about it_ -and he wasn’t about to bother them as they lived their lives, lived them in a way he no longer could.

 _Ghosts rarely age, Daniel._ Apology rang in Clockwork’s crimson eyes. _This isn’t something I can change._

Danny had agonized over that, floating around in the Zone, drifting about for days and then weeks before he went back. Time was getting away from him, in more ways than one. But he couldn’t stop himself retreating. He told no one of his escapades into solitude, on the fringes of the Zone, where no ghost could bother him.

He couldn’t stand the _worry_ his friends and sister directed at him, he couldn’t stand being the source of their pain, and his obsession fought itself -a need to be near what was his versus a need to protect others, even from himself. And Amity was safer than it had ever been, now. The ghosts had stopped coming through as often, and the ones that did weren’t often likely to pick fights.

So, he’d hidden. _Ran away,_ his mind whispered.

They had their own lives to live. They shouldn’t worry about him.

But it was during one of those retreats that he was reminded of another thing he hated, if a bit less viscerally.

_Natural portals._

Especially ones that sucked you in, spat you out, and disappeared a moment later, leaving you stranded who-knew-where-ville during the time-is-irrelevant-to-portals century.

This in itself wouldn’t have been too much of a problem for Danny. He’d learned how to make his own portals around two years ago. He could get to the Ghost Zone, talk to Clockwork, and get back whenever he wanted.

Except as soon as the portal _did_ spit him out, after swirling and swooshing him around like a nauseating washing machine, he’d felt that tether to his haunt _snap._

He didn’t realize what had happened at first. No matter how far away he’d been, he’d always been able to feel Amity. Even when he’d once fallen through a portal to _ancient China._ Distance and time might have faded the connection, knocked the wind out of him when he went too far too quickly, but never had it broken.

He wanted to panic. He wanted to scream, to rage, to get to _his home_ and kick the ass of whatever fates thought it funny to mess with his obsession. He tried to rip open his own leap between dimensions. Nothing happened. He tried again. No portal.

He wanted to cry.

There was a crackle of electricity nearby, a shaky breath. He flinched.

But no. He couldn’t. Someone was already doing that. Emotion flooded the room.

_Shock, indecision, doubt. Sorrow, anger, self-hatred, fear, fear, fear. A sob and a clanging of metal._

His protectiveness latched on, gave him clarity, shoved aside all his own fear and panic, and he finally opened his senses to where he was.

The scent hit him first. _Blood._ Blood and burning flesh and below him, he could see in the darkness and faint glow of the dying lamplight a melting corpse surrounded by an ornate circle. It was reaching out, twitchy, a soulless abomination that puttered out and collapsed on itself in moments.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to float up and out of whatever building he’d managed to land himself in, but there came a banging of metal and the whirl of _pain, pain, pain_ hit him again. His core screamed at him, _help them, help them, help them._

So, he swallowed back a gag, sucked in a breath he didn’t need, and turned away from the thing on the floor.

Then he seethed.

Two boys. Two _kids._ One a soul latched, _tied and bound,_ to an armor vessel, and the other missing two limbs and bleeding out.

 _Secrets be damned,_ his instincts and obsession bellowed, _help them._

He flew down and, true to his thoughts, let the flash of his powers move them back and his human identity come forward. The light caught the armored soul’s attention, his vessel shaking and stumbling, whirling around from his attempt at reaching the stairs. The boy’s soul, so much smaller than the body of his vessel, opened his mouth to speak. No words came. Danny gathered from the emotion in the air that shock and fear had overtaken the boy.

Which meant he didn’t move away until Danny had already reached him, stripped off his shirt, and wrapped the blond child’s arm as best he could. He then leveled the soul inside the vessel with eyes that bled green, pushed as much authority into his voice as he could manage, and said, _“Where’s the hospital?”_

The soul flinched, and Danny would scold himself later for being the cause of the tears and fear that once again welled into the other’s eyes. But it did the trick, and the boy stuttered, “Granny, Granny’s, she’s a surgeon, down, down the road.”

He nodded, pulling back the power from his eyes, and raced up the stairs, tapping into his powers of flight to not jostle the child in his arms.

“Hey- Hey, wait!” The call followed by the clanging of metal signaled the other child was following, as Danny left through the door -a bit of intangibility may have been involved -and directed himself for the only other house within sight of the one he’d left.

The boy in his arms shivered, gasped short breaths. The soul of the one behind him shivered with every clanging step.

Danny’s heart ached.

.

“Granny, _Granny!”_

Pinako bolted out of bed, the desperation in her young grandson’s voice pushing those old limbs of hers farther than she’d thought herself possible.

“Al, what’re you doing here at this time of night-?” She was halfway down the stairs when she heard Winry open the door. Winry screamed. Den began barking his lungs out, adding to the noise.

“W-Wait, Winry, it’s me! Where’s Granny!?”

Pinako made it to the bottom of the steps and scolded herself for freezing like she did.

Blood coated armor with glowing red eye sockets stood in the doorway. Winry was scrambling up from where she must have fallen on her bum in shock. In the middle of the living room, a shirtless boy, just as bloody, scars traveling down his own figure, was searching the room desperately.

He had a familiar blond haired child in his arms.

“Please, please, you’ve, you’ve gotta, help him,” sobbed the armor.

Her eyes met the stranger’s.

And Pinako knew she’d failed to keep her boys safe.

“You!” she pointed to the teen she didn’t know the name of. “This way! Now!”

She caught sight of Winry, her _smart, smart_ granddaughter putting together the pieces before reaching out to the armor, _Alphonse,_ before she grabbed the arm of the stranger and dragged him away, Edward still bleeding, _dying, she had to do something, now._

The boy followed behind her, and she directed him to place Edward down before shoving him out of the room.

She had a grandson to save.

.

Danny slid down the wall, curled into himself to hide his face, and _breathed._

His limbs were quivering. There was blood all over him. His scars -including the faded pink lightning bursts that trailed down his arm and across his body, stark against his pale skin -were there for anyone to see. Amity Park was veritably _gone,_ and there were so many emotions in the house, he could barely wade through them all to find his own.

He did, though. He couldn’t let himself be overwhelmed. The panic had dulled to an empty ache in his chest, right where he could usually feel _home._ Outward, he felt with his energy for that thin barrier that always existed between him and his haunt, that had always allowed him to return there before.

It was gone.

And that meant Amity Park, his home, his haunt, _did not exist._

He took another breath.

That was… good?

Good. It had to be. Even if Amity had been destroyed, he’d still be able to find it. No, it was still there. His family, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, they were safe.

 _There are many different worlds out there,_ Frostbite had told him, _many not dissimilar to yours. However, they are not always connected to the Ghost Zone. I would not recommend ever traveling to any of the Outer Worlds, Great One, for that would mean cutting all ties with yours._

This was an Outer World. This was a place that had no association with the Zone. _Or, at least,_ he thought of the armor-bound soul, _no direct contact._ There were always those fringe-worlds that weren’t much more connected as completely outer ones, but instead toed that line. Or so Frostbite had told him. But because of that separation, portals did not open in these Outer worlds. They _couldn’t._ The barrier between them and the Zone was either nonexistent, or too thick to be cut through.

His anger flared.

Natural portals didn’t travel dimensions.

Something, _someone,_ had cut him off. Brought him here.

This wasn’t an accident, not with his luck. Someone had wanted to cut him off, if not outright get rid of him. Danny would be the first to admit, he wasn’t exactly good about _not_ making enemies, but he didn’t know of any ones that were capable of _this._

He tensed.

Whatever, _whoever_ had done this -they were still in the Zone. Were still capable of touching _Amity_.

A tiny hand touched his bare shoulder, and he very carefully _did not_ retaliate.

Instead, he lifted his head quite stiffly, his body full of pent-up tension. The blond girl, the one that had answered the door, stood beside him. Her smile was soft, her own worry and fear and helplessness shoved away where others wouldn’t see. Except the emotions swirled around her like an angry fit of wind with no breeze.

She held out a bundle of clothing to him. He blinked and stared at it.

“I thought… you might…” she muttered, trying to gain traction with her words. “I thought you might want to clean up. I can show you the bathroom. I can…”

She glanced hesitantly to the wall opposite them, and Danny only now wondered when the two had come to sit there with him, to wait on the other boy. The steam she’d picked up faltered, “You can… clean up, too, Al…”

Danny looked between the two. The conflicted, confused young girl, and the desperate fearful young boy. He sighed softly at the prod of his own protectiveness.

He would worry about these kids, for now. And then he would find a way home.

Because he _would._ He _would_ get home. No matter what.

_No matter what._

So, he smiled back at her. He stood, took the clothes, and stepped up to the armor to give it a tap. It rang hollow in the hallway, though the soul inside jumped and looked to him, face tear-stained and eyes red.

He knelt down to be eye-level with him, “I’ll help clean ya up, okay?”

There was something like wariness in the boy’s eyes. But there was also a willingness to trust. Danny reached out with a hand, which the vessel took. He hauled the boy to his feet, much to both children’s astonishment. Then he looked to the girl once more.

“Lead the way.”


	2. Q&A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for the enthusiasm~! A little slower chapter, but necessary, I guess. I did not intend for it to get this angsty. There will be lots of Danny and the kids interactions, though. Not jumping to canon anytime soon.

Alphonse… had too many thoughts running around his brain.

Winry had left him with the stranger, running back to help Granny as soon as they made it to the bathroom. Al wanted to follow her. He wanted so very much to be by his brother’s side, to help Granny and Winry, to make sure _Ed would be all right._

There had been _-was, there was blood all over him, and that stranger_ -so much blood.

Al remembered waking up, but his body hadn’t been _his._ No, he wasn’t this tall, wasn’t this bulky, wasn’t this _metallic._ He’d been stunned, confused, wanted to cry, yet his body had done none of that. It had no nerves to feel the air with, no eyes to produce tears with. No throat to scream with.

Except, he _could_ scream. He had, somehow, called for his brother as soon as the world re-centered _-it hadn’t been spinning, like that time he’d hit his head too hard in a spar, that didn’t feel like the world snapping into place around him_ -and he’d scrambled for the first bit of blond he’d seen with his not-eyes.

His brother had been propped up against the wall, missing two limbs, and crying.

Then he’d seen the transmutation.

Their failure.

The reason his brother was hurt.

_I should have said something more,_ Al thought. _I should have done something more._

_It’s all my fault. Is Ed going to-?_

Something tapped his shoulder, sharp and hard, and the sound echoed through his armor. Al jolted. His body, however, was still bigger than he remembered, and he banged his helmet _-head? Head._ -against the wall with a loud _clang._

He brought his hands to his head to hold it still again. The stranger was crouched down in front of him, a rag and bowl in one hand, watching him with an expression Al couldn’t quite figure out.

“What- what was that for? And, uh… who… are you?” he muttered. Because he hadn’t even gotten the older boy’s name yet.

The stranger, however, wasn’t truly looking him in… the armor’s eyes? He was vaguely looking at the armor’s face. Al felt like he was looking _at_ and _past_ him at the same time.

It was unnerving.

“Danny,” he said, ringing out the rag, “And, uh, sorry. About earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Um… I…” Al remembered the shock he’d gotten when the stranger -Danny? -had appeared out of nowhere with bright green eyes -that were now blue, Al realized. “No, you didn’t -I was just… surprised?”

“Still,” the stranger said, lifting the rag to wipe away the blood. Al wanted to protest, he could do that himself _-it was his fault anyway -_ but he froze when he found himself on the receiving end of the boy’s eyes.

They were glowing green again.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, lowering the rag, “I don’t know what happened back there, what you two were doing there, but _don’t—”_ He snapped his mouth shut, and his eyes changed color between blinks. “Don’t blame yourself for something out of your control.”

Al looked down, “I- I should’ve _done something—”_

A pair of arms wrapped around his neck, and though Al couldn’t feel the stranger, he felt something twinge in his soul. A hiccup echoed out of him. He wondered if he could cry anymore.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” He said. To Ed, to his mom, to his teacher, to this stranger.

Danny stayed there, and though Al had many, many questions, he was grateful.

.

The old lady and the girl -Granny and Winry, or so Al had called them -didn’t reappear until much later. Danny kept his eyes closed, his emotions in check, as he tried to dampen his senses -emphatic abilities were hell on his nerves, and though he couldn’t just turn the ability off, he could at least lessen the extent to which he felt them.

“He’ll live,” the old lady told them all, relief surrounding her.

Al hiccupped, and Danny cracked an eye to see the little spirit huddled in on himself, crying once more. Winry dragged her feet over to him and placed her arms around his waist in a hug. Al very nearly panicked -he didn’t know what to do with his body, Danny knew, but he calmed down and placed a careful hand around her shoulders.

Danny wondered if he could help with that.

The old lady sighed, “Winry, go clean up, and rest. Alphonse, go sit with your brother. I’ll be back to check on him in a bit.”

The two kids complied, if slowly. Winry was obviously tired, too tired to shoot him a glance before heading down the hall. Al was simply careful and wary of where he put his feet as he ducked into the room after figuring out how to fit through the doorway.

Soon it was just he and the old lady in the hall. He could feel her tired curiosity.

Danny looked to her. She stood about his height while he was sitting, which was fairly short. She was giving him that kind of look Jazz did when she was trying to figure him out.

“How did you find them?” She asked, part of her curiosity fading.

Danny took a breath, keeping his hold on his ability firm, “It was… an accident.”

What could he say, really? Or, what _should_ he say?

She approached him and held out a hand. He followed it up to her eyes.

“I’m Pinako Rockbell,” she said with a small, motherly smile, “I don’t believe we’ve met properly yet.”

He felt his hold loosen at the _caring, worry_ that came from her. She was worried, and he wasn’t really helping, all wrapped up in himself like this. He reached out to take her hand, “I’m Danny. Danny Fenton.”

She wasn’t as frail as she’d looked, with how she helped him to his feet. She was surprised, however, and asked, “Are you all right?”

He glanced at his hand. Right. Cold. “Besides being too far from home, I’m fine.”

He shoved the ache aside again. _Not right now._

She squinted her eyes, “Where would home be?”

He ignored the pang. Instead, he gave her a wry smile, “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

She hummed, “I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot in my day. You’d be surprised.” She waved him on down the hall, “Let’s take this to the kitchen. I’d like to know a little more about the person who helped my grandkids.”

.

He wasn’t completely sure he was thinking rationally.

The ache was still present. The emotions in the house had calmed, leaving him raw from fighting them off. The tea, however, was incredibly welcome and calmed his shaking nerves.

The reason he wasn’t sure he was rational at the moment, was because he did something his fourteen year old self hadn’t done that often. Something he hadn’t done until he had been sixteen and tired of keeping secrets. Secrets that he hadn’t _had_ to keep and learned to relax with in the three years since.

He told the truth.

He didn’t know what could really be considered atypical in this world. There was a child’s soul walking around in a suit of armor, some horrid abomination a house over, and a dog with a mechanical leg eyeing him from under the table. He didn’t know what this world would think of someone like him, a stranded halfa from another dimension.

So, he’d told Ms. Rockbell the truth. What he was. Where he was from. Tried not to drop too many bombs aside from _other worlds and ghosts exist._ The worst she could do would be call him crazy, run him off. He’d at least know what to _not_ do in public if she did.

Except, she hadn’t done any of that.

He’d finished off with a demonstration, phasing his hand through the table to pet the dog, and sat back with his tea to await judgement.

There had been a beat of silence, and she’d muttered, “Ghosts… And here I’d thought I’d seen it all.”

Danny blinked at the resignation in the air, “Wait, you _believe me?_ ”

She sipped her tea, “You’re not the first person I’ve met, that had stories to tell. Hoenheim, those boys’ father, he had lots of… _outlandish_ drinking tales, though he never gave me many details, that idiot.” She shook her head, “But you wouldn’t know much about this place. Alchemy? I’ve seen it do stranger things.”

He dropped his gaze. The dog whined. Danny scratched him behind the ears. “What is alchemy?” Because obviously it wasn’t what he thought it was.

It was a quiet conversation. He asked questions, and Ms. Rockbell, this kind old lady, answered as best she could. About alchemy. About this world. About that man, Hoenheim, who was probably his best chance. He listened, taking it all in, committing it to memory, because he didn’t know what bit of information could be what got him home.

Conversation, however, eventually shifted back to the boys. Ms. Rockbell’s expression closed off, but her emotions swirled in a heavy regret, “Edward and Alphonse, they’ve been off with a teacher all this time. _Learning_ alchemy. I hadn’t even known they’d gotten back. What they tried…” She paused. “They loved their mother deeply. Losing her was the hardest thing they’ve ever had to go through. And they wanted her back.”

The tea was gone by this point. She had both hands clasped on the table, lost in her grief.

Danny closed his eyes. _Bringing back the dead…_ He’d been among the dead for years now. That barrier wasn’t something he understood, not when he wasn’t truly capable of living out a normal living life. What he did understand, however, was what loss could make people do.

How lonely had those boys felt, to try and defy death and see their mother again?

Ms. Rockbell shook her head, her emotions turning toward more determined things. She glanced at the door, “There’s something else I need to take care of tonight.”

He winced. There was still that husk, back at the other house. Still the blood.

“I can—”

She scraped her chair against the ground and stood, “I would like to ask you to stay here and watch the kids. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Danny wasn’t sure about letting her go alone. But there was stubbornness about her, and it would take more energy than he had at the moment to talk her out of it. He nodded.

He sat there, after she had left, breathing in the calmness of night. The dog wined. Danny looked down at him and smiled, “You’re a lot calmer than Cujo, at least.”

And that, that made him let go of the iron grip he had on himself. The separation from his haunt and the fact that he could not find the one responsible, that he could not _protect his people,_ finally caught up with him. He rest his head on the table and let out a shaky breath.

“I’ll get back…. _I promise.”_

.

Winry blearily woke, sunlight streaming through the window, her head resting not on a pillow, but a metal arm.

She twitched, before remembering what exactly happened last night. A yawn and she pulled herself upright.

“Winry?”

Al looked to her, and she clamped down on the worry that wanted to make her cry, “Hi, Al. did you sleep?”

“… no,” he said, and that echoing voice was still weird, “I don’t think… I don’t think I _can,_ in this… body.”

She frowned. That was no good.

“Winry?”

“Hmm?”

“Is Ed really gonna be okay?”

“He will be.”

A moment passed. She used it to take a look at Ed, sleeping in the bed, bandaged all over. They would probably need replacing soon…

“Thanks. For worrying about us.”

She turned back, startled –but no, Al had always been more sensitive than Ed, even if he could be thick-headed. She felt that lid on her emotions crack a bit.

“I’m always worried, Al.”

“… sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The door opened, and in walked Granny. Winry grimaced. She had been told to go to bed last night, yet here she was.

She smiled sheepishly, “Hi, Granny.”

Granny stared at her for an agonizing moment, then shook her head and pointed to the door, “Out, both of you. Go entertain our guest.”

Neither of them fought her on that, shuffling out of the room and sneaking glances at Ed before she shut the door. Winry blinked, the last statement registering in her tired brain, “Oh yeah, that guy yesterday. He’s still here?”

She looked up at Al, not that she could read anything on the armor’s face. He fidgeted with his hands, “Uh, yeah. His name’s Danny. I guess he stayed last night?”

She hummed, turning down the hall, “Well, let’s go meet him!”

It would be a good distraction, anyway.

They entered the living room, and Winry held in a giggle. Al didn’t.

There, on the couch, was Danny, sprawled on the couch, his white-flecked hair a mess, and Den lying on his stomach. The family dog wasn’t asleep but looked to both of them when they entered and growled.

“Maybe we should… let him sleep?” Al asked.

“Den seems to think so…” Winry laughed awkwardly. “How about we just… go start on breakfast, while Granny’s taking care of Ed?”

Al agreed. They left Den to his guard duty. Winry wondered what kind of person Danny was, for Den to get so protective of him so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there it is! Chapter 2 done! There's going to be a few chapters more of feels before we get some more good stuff. I hope you all enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll update as I revise.


End file.
